


A Drunken Wizard Walks Into A Bar

by nana_banana



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Canon Compliant, Drunken Shenanigans, Episode: c02e062, Fantasy-Typical Racism (mild), Gen, Lightweight Caleb Widogast, M/M, May Include Minor Spoilers, Pre-Relationship, clayleb - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nana_banana/pseuds/nana_banana
Summary: In a drunken burst of emotional motivation, Caleb finds himself starting a bar fight.





	A Drunken Wizard Walks Into A Bar

**Author's Note:**

> I said I wanted to write this on twitter, so here it is. Just a quick one shot. My wips are judging me.

Caleb Widogast stared down into the cup, the dregs of his ale sloshing side to side as he turned it between his hands. The din around him was muted to his ears, long since pushed to the back of his mind as he slowly unwound from a hectic day. His cup disappeared from his hands then, and Caleb found himself staring at the wood between his empty palms, following the odd, purple grain with his eyes.

“Here ya go.”

The cup was set back between his hands, and Caleb looked up to see the bartender giving him an odd, amused look before walking away with a pitcher. A small hand patted his left, green with sharp nails.

Nott.

Veth only to Yeza who sat directly on her other side. Glancing, he met her gaze and she smiled at him, a mere baring of her teeth for all that her protruding, jagged teeth allowed. It warmed him, and he felt a small twinge of grief for the family he used to have, as he always felt at the sight of her. Grown as close as they had, she had become a constant reminder of his parents, his goals, all for the family he had found in her. He smiled back as best as he could, the alcohol numbing the better parts of his face. And lifting the cup to his lips, Caleb drank.

He was two cups deep in ale, now on his third. A minor thing, for anyone who was not Caleb Widogast. As much effort as he put into his studies of magic, he was a lightweight first and a wizard second. And normally, this would not have been a problem.

_Normally._

However, Caleb Widogast was two cups deep in the middle of Rosohna in Xhorhas, where he was finding himself again. The pieces of Bren that still lingered inside him, the boldness, the lack of fear, the surety and steel in his spine, they were slowly coming back. Being as far from the Empire as he was, he was reckless with possibility. He had already outed himself in front of the Bright Queen and whatever spies had been in that throne room, and as such, his meek and careful disguise had fallen out of use, like caution to the wind.

And being two cups deep when he was regaining the daring, iron core within him, the Bren he had left behind, was not beneficial to survival.

Case in point, when he heard the haughty mutterings at the next table, instead of ignoring them, he nudged the lounging fey cat in his lap. A soft _mrrp_ sound left the cat at his touch, receiving his order with a purr, and Caleb closed his eyes as he sent Frumpkin over to listen.

Frumpkin approached, vision bobbing as he trotted up to the next table where two drow elves sat.

“Who drinks fucking _tea_ in a tavern?” said one, long white hair gathered into a messy knot at the back of her head, casting a long, sneering look in the direction of Caleb's table where the Mighty Nein were taking a break from working on their new home, the M.T. Home, as Caleb liked to think of it, even if that thought came with an ounce of grief. “Even more, tea they brought themselves. What do you reckon?”

“Fucking weird is what I think,” said the other, a bit of a lisp to his words. He was missing an eye from what Caleb could see, a scar running from one nostril to his opposite temple and hair shorn close to his head. He looked battleworn and past his prime, crows feet at the edges of his pale eyes. “Lived a long time and I dun' even know what it is. Lookit. Even got a tail, but ain't a tieflin'. No horns neither. Looks like cattle.”

“I think its eyes are pink,” said the first in curiosity. “Didn't know eyes could _be_ pink outside of us.”

“Ugh, who cares,” said the second, “should leave if it ain't gonna drink like normal folk. The tiefling too. Orderin' milk. Ha!”

Pulling out of Frumpkin Vision, Caleb straightened on the bench, indignation clawing itself underneath his buzzing skin, and looked over to Caduceus. To all appearances, the man was merely enjoying a cup of tea, nodding along to whatever story Jester was telling from her time at the Lavish Chateau. However, Caleb knew how perceptive he was, and upon closer inspection, he could see Caduceus' ears twitching ever so slightly in the direction of the coversing drow.

In a split-second decision, Caleb stood, sliding out from the bench with all the effort of his slow limbs, and took his cup with him. He felt more than he saw the rest of his group look his way, but he paid it no mind as he marched straight for the next table. The conversation of the other tables blurred together in his ears, a constant hum in his head that threatened his balance. Upon arriving, he slammed down his drink, liquid and foam sloshing out the sides as the two drow cast him suspicious and disgusted looks apiece.

The noise became muted in that instant.

“Gentlepeople,” Caleb said as the chatter from his table died away, the rest of the tavern slowly following suit as every single eye turned in direction of the commotion. “Let me introduce myself,” he said. “My name is Caleb Widogast and I'm a hero of the fucking Dynasty.” He pulled the token given to him by the Bright Queen, and shoved it into each of their faces in turn. They drew away from him, lips pulled up in grimacing snarls.

“So?” remarked the older drow, not the least bit intimidated by the emblem. “What do you want, _humie?”_

“I heard what you said about my friend,” Caleb continued, and he caught a hiss of his name from Jester, the thud of Beau's staff on the floor, and the distinct sound of the Tinkertop Bolt Blaster 1000 sliding a bolt into place. “And I would like to impress upon you both that he is also a fucking hero of the Dynasty — Caduceus, show your token!” He called over his shoulder, but did not bother to turn and check if the man had followed through. “And you two are being incredibly rude to her majesty's _honored_ guests.”

“Pfft,” snorted the man, casting an amused grin to his compatriot, “run along, humie. Mind your fucking business.” He sneered at Caleb, a derisive snort leaving him.

“ _Ja_ , okay,” Caleb said. Grabbing his drink, he took a sip before upending it over the man's head, earning himself several shocked gasps from the vicinity. With a grin he could not feel, Caleb watched foam and amber liquid run down the sides of the drow's shaved head, those pale eyes widening with disbelieving rage.

“He's gonna die,” Caleb heard Beau hiss.

“Fuck you,” Caleb stated loudly and oh-so-eloquently, “you rude, steaming, sack of shit.”

“You motherfucker,” snarled the drow.

“Caleb!” cried Nott.

“Here we go,” Fjord groaned.

The drow leapt, table legs screeching across the floor as it was shoved aside by his bulk. And the next thing Caleb knew, he was on the ground, an angry drow on top of him, and chaos erupting around him. The man struck him twice, and pain exploded across Caleb's face. He could feel the blood bursting forth from what surely was a broken nose. Without thought to his magic, Caleb instinctually punched back, getting in a solid hit and feeling the skin pop beneath his knuckles before he was dragged out from underneath the man. He saw Beau rushing forth with her teeth bared, Jester following, her eyes flashing with fury.

“I can take him!” Caleb drunkenly shouted, straining uselessly against the solid hold under his armpits and around his chest as he was dragged up off the floor and back. “Let me at him,” he growled, waving his fists, “I'll cast fireball on his stupid face!” Blood dripped down from his burning, stinging, and aching nose as he switched from flailing his fists to struggling for his component pouch, abruptly remembering that he was, in fact, a fucking wizard, and could, in fact, _do that._

“Caleb, you'll destroy the whole tavern,” Yasha's calm voice said in his ear, and he jerked his head around to look at her, disgruntled and put out by that very pertinent information. Hands still in tight adamant fists, he heavily considered ignoring her just to spite the drow, but his sluggish brain eventually agreed with Yasha.

Memories of the well flashed in his mind, from when he had set a fireball on his friends. He looked out at Beau as she kneed the drow in the face, and relented. She was too close. He would not hurt her.

“Please! Please!” he could hear the owner of the tavern yelling to no avail over the raucous jeering from the other tables.

“Caleb, what the fuck,” Fjord said as he was dragged past and shoved into a seat, his back hitting the table behind him. “What happened to calculated risks?” But Caleb could barely hear him as he watched Beau, beyond Yasha's shoulder, sweeping the floor with the old man, who seemed to suddenly have a crossbow bolt in his knee. Jester too was in the midst, pulling the woman into a headlock from where she had obviously tried to intervene.

“Talk shit, get hit,” Caleb muttered absently in Fjord's general direction, certain that he had heard Beau say the phrase at least once, though the details were blurry in his current state.

“I got your token back, Caleb,” said Nott, darting before him in a blur as Yasha moved aside. She pressed the token to his palm, primly taking a seat beside him. As she looked up at him with shining yellow eyes, Caleb distinctly felt Yasha place a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. “It went flying as soon as that fuck tackled you, but I got it back. You should not lose that.” She quickly admonished him and smirked as she tucked away her crossbow, the edge of her mouth dragging back even further. “I also got him in the knee,” she said, patting his own.

_Good, good,_ Caleb thought viciously, looking for an opening between his friends. Beau was barraging the man with her fists, Caleb was glad to see. But his body, though loosened by alcohol, was still tense, and his knuckles itched to get another strike in. _You should not have fucked with my friends, pal._

“You're all crazy,” Yeza muttered, and Caleb looked down at him, but he sounded impressed despite himself, and he too, patted Caleb's other knee in sympathy.

“That was very reckless, Mr. Caleb.”

The voice ripped Caleb from his thoughts of diving back into the fray, and his eyes found Caduceus'. Sitting on his other side, Caduceus reached out a hand, but despite his admonishing words, there was a warmth to his gaze. It stilled Caleb's drunken anger as Caduceus made a simple, arcane gesture and touched his cheek. The softness there calmed him unexpectedly as Caduceus began muttering the familiar incantation to Cure Wounds. Within seconds, the throbbing in Caleb's face disappeared altogether.

_Is this gratitude?_ Caleb wondered as Caduceus withdrew his hand and held out a handkerchief.

“Ah,” Caleb brightly stated, hesitating before he took the web-patterned silk, “ _danke_ , Caduceus.”

“Let's not do any more of that, shall we?” Caduceus said, and Caleb could almost feel that voice rumbling in his own chest, like Frumpkin's purrs when he slept on Caleb's chest at night. “It's not worth it.” He caught the meaning beneath Caduceus' words then, his drunken brain processing them seconds late.

_“It's okay,”_ it said, _“I'm not bothered by them.”_ The meaning was all too clear. Caduceus did not care about others or their remarks.

“Uh, _ja_ ,” Caleb absently replied, “okay.” A bit guiltily, he added, “ _Entschuldigen Sie bitte_. Please excuse my actions.”

In reply, a gentle smile touched Caduceus' lips, and he motioned to the handkerchief Caleb had yet to use.

“I think they're getting kicked out,” Fjord said, though Caleb had turned deaf ears to everyone around him as he focused solely on that warm, rose-colored gaze. “You're lucky we have the Bright Queen's coins.”

It occurred to Caleb that insults to Caduceus' person meant nothing when the only thing Caduceus cared about was them, and he could relate to that feeling keenly, a fragile warmth filling Caleb's chest at the thought.

“Okay,” he said.

_“I would do it again,”_ he meant.

**Author's Note:**

> Can never have enough Clayleb in my life. Thanks for reading, y'all.
> 
> tumblr: [@floreswrites](https://floreswrites.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [@nanadanonini](https://twitter.com/nanadanonini)


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